A Sinner's Penance
by Jasper1863Hale
Summary: Led by guilt over the one he loves, Jasper attends confession to cleanse his soul. AH/Slash


**A/N: All recognisable characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. I'm just playing with them.**

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**A Sinner's Penance**

**1861, Pennsylvania, USA.**

Behind me, I could hear the post sermon chatter of the villagers, as they walked side by side on their way home. They hurry as they go, the looming dark clouds overhead threaten to open upon us at any minute. I keep my back to them, thinking of the sermon we had listened to. I hear my father and mother speaking together, as they walk home with my younger brother, Caleb.

Before me stands the church of our village, just big enough for our population of ninety-four. Its walls are covered in white wash, a colour of purity, as we all strive to keep our souls the same. As the village pastor, my father had led the usual Sunday service just moments before, and all his words of sins made me ever more aware of my blackened soul.

Outward, I am a son to be proud of, the village pastor's boy, one who can never do wrong. I know my father is proud of me; I left the school with good marks and intentions, and became an apprentice to the blacksmith. Though my father had wanted me to devote my future to the Lord and the church, he has high expectations that I will still turn to this path one day, and take his place as the village pastor. It's not that he objects to my current occupation, I get good exercise, help the community by making shoes for their horses and other metal work they desire. Within two years I have become skilled enough to make anything, from a fire poker to a customised cattle brand.

I try to make my father proud, but if he ever discovered the truth, I know I would be doing worse than going to the deepest fires of hell; he would likely whip the skin off me and send me there himself. I can never tell him. That's why today I have volunteered to clean up after the service; I have done so many times before as a younger lad, and I know from experience that the church remains empty and quiet after the sermon is over and everyone has left. Well, not everyone, there is someone I hope has remained behind.

Glancing over my shoulder, I see the villagers have melted into the distance, disappearing into their homes and gathering their laundered clothes in the process, to avoid the approaching storm. Here in the far outskirts of Pennsylvania, we are used to wet days, and have adapted to spending the Lord's day with reading and playing games. I would be doing neither just yet, I still have a soul to purify.

If my father ever knew that I had not confessed and paid penance for my sins for many months, he would be furious. I feel the blackness on my soul, clenching at my chest with each breath I take. I know I have left my sinned state go on for far too long, but in a village of so few and everyone knowing the business of others, how could I bear to confess my sins with the risk of my father hearing of it?

Turning my attention back to the church looming over me, I draw in a deep breath, mentally preparing myself for what is to come. I need to come clean, I need to be forgiven, and confession is the only way. As the thunder begins to roll in the distance, I ascend the wooden steps into the church, and pull the door securely closed behind me. The door is made of thick wood, and as I bolt it shut, I no longer hear the echoed rumble of the elements beyond.

I turn to glance around the church, the lines of white painted pews are spread before me, each acting like a step towards sanctity, and each time I had sat and knelt here the past seven months; I had felt as though I would stain the pew black like my soul.

The pews stretch the length of the church, all the way to the alter, where the candles still smoked after being snuffed out a minute or two before. As I take my first step towards the front of the church, a faint drumming begins upon the roof above me. I look up, listening to the sound, as though the Lord himself was drumming his fingers in agitation. I know I have wronged Him, I know He is upset with me, and I know even with my confession and penance, I can never truly be forgiven by Him.

As I near the front of the church, I raise my eyes to the alter once again, and to the statue of the Lord Jesus upon his cross; I have wronged him also. Each further sin I make, I drive the nails further into His hands and feet. I twist the sword deeper into the wound in His side, and impale the thorns of His crown further into His head. He stares down at me, His tilted gaze meeting mine with disapproval, and I feel a strong urge to run from the church; but I know I cannot.

I stand before the alter for a couple of minutes, my eyes staring at the statue above me, silently begging and pleading for His forgiveness. I do not mean to hurt Him further with my sins, I do not mean to leave Him upon the cross any longer. When I cannot bear to look at Him any longer, I drop my gaze and turn to the right.

At the end of the row of pews is the confessionals. Two wooden closet like boxes side by side, each with an off white curtain pulled across, emblazoned with a gold cross by the ladies sewing group of the village. Beneath the curtain in the right hand box, I can see the brown fabric clad ankles and black boot clad feet of the one I must face. I cannot prevent the shiver that runs down my spine. I still feel the urge to turn and leave, telling myself that there is plenty of time to confess another day. Another part of me tries to become the reason, telling me if I die before I wake, I will never know absolution because of my stained soul.

After another minute, I slowly step forward, walking the line of the pews until I reach the left hand box. Reaching out, I pull across the curtain as quietly as I can, and step inside, drawing it closed behind me once again. I turn to face the wall of the neighbouring confessional, removing my hat and lowering myself to kneel on the floor upon a red cushion. I place my hat at my side and cross myself, clasping my hands in prayer as the hatch door opens between us.

"Bless me Father, for I have sinned, it has been many months since my last confession."

There is a waver in my voice, and I fight the urge to nervously run a hand through my hair, keeping my hands firmly clasped together level with my heart and my eyes raised to the fine meshed netting over the hatch above me. It is hard to make out the figure of the man on the other side, the confessionals are dark, and I turn my gaze to the smaller crucifix above the hatch.

"And what do you wish to confess, my child?"

His voice is so much calmer than mine, perhaps from experience, I'm not completely sure. I am quiet for several seconds, trying to breathe as evenly and as calmly as I can.

"I…I have lied to my father, I have upset my mother, I hit my brother…I have cursed a couple of times…"

I trailed off at that point, feeling a little better to get those sins from my chest. I had lied to my father every Saturday evening about having come to confession. I had upset my mother by rudely talking back at her during one of her scolding's, and I had hit my brother a couple of times over the last seven months; he is much younger than me, still considered very much a child at fourteen, and easily agitates me. But, my worst sins are still yet to be told.

"I sense that there is more you wish to confess, my child, go on."

I took a deeper breath, knowing what I said next could have me cast from the church, cast from my home and the whole village. My body trembled as I began to confess.

"I…I've done some very bad things, Father. Things that I don't think the Lord could ever forgive me for."

"The Lord will forgive all those who repent for their sins. He will forgive all those who believe in Him and in return He will believe in you once again."

I remained quiet for near a minute, taking in those words and trying to bring myself to believe in them. I wanted to believe in them.

"I have fallen in love, Father…and I have…done things with this one that I love. I have defiled our bodies before a marriage bed. I worry for both of our souls, as surely the Lord could never forgive such a thing."

"A person's body is a temple, my child, but it is not a temple of the Lord. How clean you choose to keep your temple is your choice. It is true the Lord prefers them exceptionally clean and pure, but He will not frown upon a speck of lint here and there."

Despite my nerves I could not hold back the short bubble of a choked laugh, as it broke from my throat. I tried to hide it behind a cough and quickly crossed myself for forgiveness for that too.

"If the Lord were to see my temple, I would not be visible through all of the lint."

"Is it truly so bad, child? Surely you love this girl dearly, and if you are both happy, then He will be happy also."

I swallowed the lump forming in my throat, knowing that it was now or never to confess the truth and cleanse my soul.

"Father…it is a man that I am in love with."

Beyond the hatch in the wall above me, I hear a sharp intake of breath. I worry that he will begin yelling, maybe even loud enough to be heard over the storm that is growing stronger outside. When there had been silence for a couple of minutes, no sound but our breathing, he spoke again.

"Well, that is truly a grievous sin, but you have opened your soul to the Lord, and for that he is happy. You wish to make amends and He will forgive you child."

"Can He really forgive me for something so awful that I have done?"

I knew that should my father know of all this, I would never earn his forgiveness, I didn't see how God could forgive me either.

"He will forgive you when the right time comes. For your sins, say three 'Hail Mary's', three 'Our Father's' and a special prayer for me."

I nodded my head and lowered my clasped hands towards the floor, ready to stand and retrieve my hat, and to go out to the pews to pray my penances. Before I could move from my knees, his voice spoke again.

"Though this is a rather grave sin indeed…so you shall have to pay an extra penance for your sins. After you have prayed, remove your slacks and your breeches and kneel on your hands and knees for a further punishment."

My breath caught in my throat at his words. I thought that I could be forgiven with offering up prayers to the Lord, but he spoke of further punishment, one involving the removal of my clothes, as though he would beat me. I opened my mouth to question him, or object, or both; but he snapped the hatch door shut.

I stared at the closed hatch for a couple of seconds, then picking up my hat, I slowly raised to my feet and slid the curtain across. As I stepped out and closed the curtain, I cast a hasty glance around the entire church. If I was to strip from some of my clothes, I did not want anyone to be witness. All of the pews were empty, and the only sound other than the storm outside, was that of my breathing. A quick glance to the door at the back of the church showed it was still bolted closed, no one could enter.

I stepped forward to the nearest pew to the confessionals, and placed my hat over the knob at the end. I walked forward into the pew, taking down a cushion from the hook and set it on the ground. I kneeled upon it and retrieved my white rosary beads from my pocket; we carried our rosaries with us every hour of the day, and wore them wrapped around our wrist at night.

I looked down to the white beads, each perfectly rounded and worn over the years of their use; at the end hung a small, white crucifix. The rosaries were crafted at the birth of each child within the village, and passed to them at the age of two when they are considered old enough to pray with them. My mother had made this rosary for me, and I cherished it.

Turning my gaze up to the statue on the alter, the Lord Jesus was still giving me a scrutinising look, and I began gently rubbing the beads together between my clasped fingers, as I prayed for my soul in penance for forgiveness.

"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of death. Amen."

I repeated the prayer three times, then moved on to saying three 'Our Father's', continuing to rub the beads of my rosary with each word; my unblinking gaze fixed upon the statue before me. After the last prayer, I felt a little lighter, the sins of the past few months washing away as the Lord forgave me. I was now forgiven for lying to my father, forgiven for upsetting my mother and forgiven for hitting my brother. I offered up a prayer to the Lord for the one who had heard my confession.

I raised back to my feet, placing the rosary onto the seat beside me, and glanced warily once again around the church. I had been heard and forgiven for my lesser sins, and now I would need to face the punishment for my worse sin. At the far end of the church, the door was still securely bolted, and the rain lashed against the few windows around the building, high enough up that no one could possible see in. I looked over my shoulder towards the confessionals, seeing that the legs were still there, having not moved at all. I sighed and turned my back to them once again.

I was nervous, really nervous, but I wanted forgiveness. I slowly unbuttoned my coat, sliding it from my shoulders and folded and placed it neatly on the seat beside my rosary. I raised my trembling hands to slide the suspenders from my shoulders, they dropped limply around my hips. With another quick glance around, I unbuttoned the fly of my slacks, and lowered them down to my ankles. I toed off my boots, nudging them neatly aside with my foot, then removed the slacks completely. I folded these like I had my coat, and laid them on top. I glanced down to the breeches, my shirt tails long enough to just cover my crotch, but still I was nervous for removing them. I hooked my thumbs into the waistband, and made hurried work of sliding them down and folding them, placing them onto the pile.

Once I had followed the instructions given to me, and keeping my back to the confessionals, I knelt back down upon the pillow, now facing to the left of the alter, and moved to rest forward on my hands. I could feel the chilly air against the bare skin of my legs and buttocks, and I quivered with the anticipation of what was going to happen.

There was silence for another minute or two, then I heard the distinct sound of the curtain pulling open and footsteps approaching me from behind. As he stepped into the line of the pew, I felt the vibrations of his footsteps through the wooden flood beneath my hands, then he stopped.

The silence stretched on a little longer, the anticipation increasing tenfold and unnerving me. Suddenly a thick and heavy book dropped down to land on the floor in front of me with a bang. It made me jump and suck in a breath. When the small amount of dust settled, I saw that it was one of many Bibles that lined every pew.

"Open it at the beginning and read it aloud."

There was no trace of anger or negativity in his voice, just instructions that I was to follow. I shifted my weight onto one hand and opened the book with the other. The pages were thick, but it was no means a large book, the print was small and I squinted to see it. Being unable to see the words well enough to read, I had to lower down so I was resting on my elbows, my arms flat against the ground; it caused my back to arch, putting my lower back and buttocks as the highest part of my body. I felt exposed and humiliated. I felt a slight movement, and heard as his knees landed softly on the wooden slats behind me. My body twitched as I felt the tails of my shirt being lifted to rest on my lower back, completely exposing my behind to him. He folded the end of my shirt neatly upon my back. His hands moved away for just two seconds, then I felt something firm and flat come to rest against the soft skin of my buttocks.

"I said read."

"In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth…"

The flat object moved away from my body, then came back to connect with a crack, causing me to jump and stop reading. It wasn't painful by any means, just a surprise as I wasn't expecting it.

"Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the spirit of God was hovering over the waters."

The object connected with my behind with another crack, I jolted as it landed across my right buttock with a faint sting, but again not painful.

"And God said, 'Let there be light', and there was light."

This time I was waiting for it, having realised that he was waiting for the end of each sentence. As I anticipated, the object struck again, this time on the left, eliciting a faint moan from my throat.

"God saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from the darkness."

He struck again, a little harder this time and right across the middle. My back arched with a faint hiss, but it began to sooth as he raised his hand to rub away the sting he'd caused.

"God called the light 'day', and the darkness he called 'night'."

I paused, waiting for the next strike, but it didn't come. When there was silence for about ten seconds, I continued.

"And there was evening, and there was morning-the first day."

He landed two strikes in quick succession, one on each cheek but with less strength than the previous hit. My back arched anyway as another moan escaped me. His hand again rubbed out the slight sting, and I continued to read.

"And God said, 'Let there be a vault between the waters to separate water from water'."

I stopped at the end of the sentence, not sure whether to anticipate another strike, or whether he would wait to keep me on my toes again. I heard the object get placed on the floor behind me, and his hands moved to the back of my lower legs, prying them further apart. I shifted my weight until I had a knee on the floor on each side of the cushion.

"Keep reading."

"So God made the vault and separated the water under the vault from the water above it."

A rumble of thunder outside of the church was the only sound besides our breathing, and I continued to read.

"And it was so. God called the vault 'sky'. And there was evening, and there was morning-the second day."

I gasped in a breath as I felt a slight wetness between my buttocks. I could feel his finger tracing up and down between them, until it came to rest again my anus. I pushed myself back against his finger, wanting to feel more, but his free hand rested on my buttock and pushed me forwards back into place.

"And God said 'Let the water under the sky be gathered to one place, and let dry ground appear."

I faltered towards the end of the sentence, his finger had moved away for a second and then returned wetter than before. He circled his finger around my hole, lightly adding pressure to the middle to spread the moisture. His free hand kept me resting forward on my arms.

"And it was so. God called the dry ground 'land', and the gathered waters he called 'seas'. And God saw that it was good…oh good God!"

I whimpered and tried again to push myself back towards him. As I had read from the Bible, his probing finger had spread the moisture evenly, and had then begun to enter me. I was no stranger to such intrusions, and I knew of the sinful pleasure to be had.

"Read."

I drew in a shaky breath, and his finger didn't cease. He withdrew it to gather more moisture, then pushed back into me again. It stung a little at first, but my muscles soon relaxed and I felt his finger fully enter me.

"Then God said 'Let the land produce vegetation: seed-bearing plants and trees on the land that bear fruit with seed in it, according to their various kinds."

My sentence trailed off with a whimper as he wiggled his finger inside of me, probing deeply and circling within; it felt so sinfully amazing and I unashamedly craved much more. He withdrew his finger, and we were both silent for a few seconds, then the sensation returned. His finger slid into me so easily, easing in and out in a pumping action four times, then on the last draw out, he began pushing in a second finger to join it. My muscles tensed around the intrusion, I bit my lip at the new sting, and taking a deep breath through my nose, I forced myself to relax. Once done, he slowly eased both fingers in to the hilt. He let me adjust for a couple of seconds, then pumped the two fingers within me, using a scissoring action on each withdrawal to stretch me further. My breathing began coming in short, sharp gasps.

The book lay forgotten in front of me, as I focused completely on the sensations happening to my body. My weight shifted again, spreading my legs further for him, and was rewarded with a burst of intense pleasure deep within me. Each time he pumped his fingers in, the pleasure came again, and I thought I would become undone. As I began to tremble more, he must have noticed that I was getting so close to a release from his ministrations. He withdrew his fingers completely, and used the hand to teasingly tap my buttocks twice.

"Turn around and lay on your back."

I closed the book, pushing it aside across the floor and turned around to face him; moving so that my back was against the floor, and my lower back and buttocks supported by the cushion. Able to see him now, I could see that his skin was lightly flushed, his short copper hair in its usual disarray of spikes, and his deep green eyes feverish with lust.

"Lift your hips."

I complied obediently, and he took down a second cushion from the hook, placing it on top of the other for extra height. I settled back down onto them, grabbing another cushion myself and placed it under my head for comfort. He smiled and looked down, scooping another amount of the greasy wax between his fingers.

The wax had recently been introduced into our village, as an aid for healing cuts and burns. They called it Rod Wax, and the village doctor bought large amounts from the main city, where it was transported to from the oil fields. Many a housewife in our village used Rod Wax for cooking burns and their children's skimmed knees. We used it to aid something else.

I watched as he massaged the wax between his palms, then moved both hands down to my aching penis. The spanks and probing of his fingers had caused me to harden, and he gently rubbed the wax all over my shaft and the head to make it slick. The sensation was amazing, and I impatiently bucked my hips up into his hands. He chuckled and shook his head, moving away his hands completely.

"Edward, don't tease me, you have worked me up so much already."

"All in good time, Jasper."

I had always been an impatient child. Impatient in learning to walk unaided, impatient to learn my lessons in school, and certainly impatient now. I moved my hand to work at myself, but he slapped it sharply away.

With a huff, I dropped my hands to my side, and watched as he unbuttoned his slacks. He had removed his coat at some point, and his suspenders had been at his sides. Once unbuttoned, he pushed his slacks and breeches down to his knees in one fluid motion. My gaze dropped to take in the sight of him, straight and proud, erect and ready, and the sight was almost my undoing. I could scarcely wait another moment, and bent my knees, spreading my legs to each side for him. He smiled and took in the sight of me, then produced a clean handkerchief from his pocket. He unfolded it hastily, pulling out a pig's bladder, and slid it down over his length. I flicked my tongue out to moisten my dry lips, and watched as he coated his bladder clad penis with Rod Wax.

I could tell that he was impatient today also, and as soon as he was prepared, he shuffled closer on his knees and leaned down over me; bracing one hand on the floor between my shoulder and my head, and used the other hand to guide himself to my waiting entrance.

I felt him pressing against me, pushing so slow, so gentle to not hurt me. I tilted my hips to give him better access, and felt the large head of his penis slipping in past the tight muscle. I bit my lip and hissed a little at the intrusion, larger than his two fingers, and yet it felt so sinfully good at the same time. Once the dome of his penis was past the ring of muscle, he easily slid in the rest of the way. I curled my legs around behind him, locking my ankles below his buttocks and felt him slide impossibly deeper, leaving me feeling so full.

"Are you okay, Jasper?"

I realised I was still biting my lip, I released it and nodded my head.

" I'm fine, Edward. It feels so good, I don't think I will last."

He moved his free hand to my face, gently brushing aside the slightly sweat dampened curls from my forehead, and locked his gaze onto mine.

"I don't think I will either. We were right to wait a while, you feel so perfectly tight like the first time."

I felt my length twitch between us at his words. He pulled his hips back, and rocked them forward to meet me again, eliciting a synchronised moan from us both.

"Oh…so tight…oh, Jasper…"

He pulled practically completely out, and pushed almost forcefully back into me. It came with a slight sting, but it quickly turned to pleasure as he brushed that sweet spot inside. He braced his other hand beside me and leaned down to press his lips to mine. His shirt clad chest pressed against my own, trapping my penis between us, but with the slickness from the wax, it helped us to slide and made the pressure feel amazing.

His rhythm picked up to a quicker pace, pulling back his hips until he was half way out, and slammed himself back into me; each thrust in would cause him to brush against that spot, the pleasure tingling deep within my stomach and my testicles, threatening to drop me over the edge at any second. His tongue assaulted mine with as much need for me as I felt for him. I kept my ankles clamped below his buttocks, so he couldn't withdraw completely from me, I didn't want to feel the loss of his presence. I felt his buttock muscles tighten under my ankles, and his thrusts quickened and became jerky. I could feel his heart pounding through his chest against mine as he came, and the erratic jerks and thrusts caused him to rub continuously against that spot; within two more seconds I came over our shirts between us.

He pulled his mouth away from mine, his arms straining shakily to hold him up. I moved my own to rest my hands to his tensed back, and pulled him down towards me. His arms gave out, spilling him onto my chest, where he rested his head against my collarbone, his breath landing warm and quick against my throat.

"Edward?"

"Hmm?"

"Does this mean I have to go to confession again, and do this all over again?"

He chuckled, and moved just enough to kiss my neck. I stroked my hands over his broad shoulders and down his back, trying to knead out the tenseness from the climax. He relaxed like clay in my hands.

"Well, we did just sin, we really should both go to confession for real; I don't think I ever could though, my father would whip me to a pulp and yours would do the same to you."

I nodded my head, knowing that he was right. We would both spend our lives with a black mark on our souls. I took as deep a breath as I could with him laying on me, then unlocked my ankles from his legs.

"We should re-dress and clean the church. I don't want to be away too long, my father might come looking for me, and he won't be happy if I've not cleaned the church as I said I would do."

He nodded and braced his hands on the floor, pushing himself back up to his knees. He lowered a hand down between us, being sure when he withdrew that the pig's bladder came out also. He passed me the handkerchief he had wrapped it in, and I used it to wipe the mess from my shirt and stomach. I passed it back, and as he withdrew from me, he transferred the used bladder directly to it, wrapping it back up to dispose of. He used the wrapped up handkerchief to wipe himself clean, then pulled up his breeches and slacks, re-buttoning them.

As he stood up, he held it his hand to help me up also, then as I moved to the seat to retrieve my clothes, he placed the cushions back on their hooks. Just as I pulled up my breeches, I felt a sharp swat to my buttocks, causing me to jump and turn to look at him. He grinned and held up one of the hymn books.

"We should use this again some time, you seem to like it for more than just singing from."

My cheeks warmed with a faint blush and he chuckled and picked up the bible from the floor, leaving me to re-dress as he began gathering the books into piles at the end of each pew. I realised now he had used a song book to spank me with, the hard back and smooth surface having given enough sting to elicit pleasure rather than pain.

I tugged on my slacks, buttoning them up and slipping the suspenders over my shoulders. Once my boots were toed on and my coat back on my body, I pocketed my rosary beads and pulled my hat back on. Edward had finished gathering all the books into their piles, and was waiting for me at the bolted door. He smiled when I reached him, and clapped me on the shoulder.

"We may still be in the Lord's black books, but you've confessed and paid penance. In my eyes, you're forgiven."

I couldn't help the chuckle at his words, and clapped his shoulder in return then unbolted the door. As I pulled it open, we saw that the rain was falling heavily and oil lamps were lit all around the village, as everyone stayed dry and snug inside their homes.

I still hadn't confessed my sins and made penance to the Lord for my love and misdeeds with Edward. But as we hurried along side by side to return to our separate homes, I thought that for now the role play that had been Edward's idea, was a good enough confession and penance for me.


End file.
